Thursday, August 28, 2008

On Pit Bulls

TBF’s legs went all Gumby and he fell down with a thud as the sound of broken glass falling on the sidewalk violently mixed with people screaming. Ike hit the guy square in the nose and he dropped to the pavement like a ton of bricks, blood flowing from his fresh wound. Ike starts to head over to hit this guy while he’s on the deck.

“Oy…fuck him we have to get TBF out of here before the fucking cops show,” I scream.

Ike and I get him into the front seat of my car and put some of my dirty clothes down to keep him from bleeding all over the place. Holy shit that’s a lot, I almost forgot what that much blood looks like. I’ve seen someone get shot and I’ve seen people severely mutilate themselves when I worked at the butcher, but this was the first time in a while. Ike is fucking screaming in the backseat about going back with one of his assault rifles, I share the same sentiments. Luckily TBF doesn’t live far away, we stop at his house and I tell Ike he can’t come to the hospital, he’s too drunk. I…am…sober…totally…fucking…sober.

“HEY! Dude, you need to stay awake, you probably have a concussion.”

Luckily he can walk halfway straight (albeit with my holding him up) as we exit the car park into the hospital. It is slow in the ER and they admit him almost immediately, I tell him I’m going home to get a toothbrush and some more cigs and I’ll be back in an hour.

Rewind.

I have been thinking all day that it is time to make a change. I’m not so much worried about the smoking pot as I am about the massive quantity of alcohol I must consume in order to get me drunk. I have been getting progressively more insane and as the weekends go on I drink more and more. I need to set it down for a bit, but I have failed so many times before. I have to try this time.

I got my phone charger from Ro’s house, stayed for a smoke and headed home. I plugged the phone in and called the Stranger/Girl on the Phone, and we chatted for a bit before she told me the inevitable, “I’m rubbing my thighs together.” I’ve been waiting for this all fucking day. In no time I was laid out on my couch playing with myself while telling her all the horrible things I was going to do to her when I finally meet her. She can be a horrible cunt when she wants to be, but now her voice is soft and lower as she tells me what she wants to do to my body. I tell her it is only a matter of time before I’m ruthlessly pounding her pussy with my hand on her throat squeezing until the last second and then releasing to the sound of her gasps as she cums. I told her I want to empty myself inside of her; she told me I have to feed her our mixed together juices with my cock. Then inevitably we switch to talking nice, she tells me how she wants to tell me she loves me when I am fucking her…I’m getting close. She tells me she wants to tell me she loves me while she cums…really close. “P, I love you,” oh shit…there it goes…honestly she makes me cum so hard it’s un-fucking-believable. Shit, it is EVERYWHERE. Poor couch.

I make my way out to the front stoop to have a cigarette wearing nothing but a pair of mesh shorts and sporting a still hard-on that any of my neighbors could clearly see. Fuck them anyways; they must think I’m utterly insane from what they have heard come from my apartment since I moved in there. Between the shouting, pot smell, extremely loud fucking, drinking at 11 am on a Saturday, walking around in the parking lot half naked or talking to the kids that live in the projects behind my building…well let’s just say that they think I’m fucking bat shit crazy. Like I said, fuck them.

I sat there on the stoop with the smoke circling my head, thinking that this was the first night in as long as I could remember that I wasn’t halfway in the bag by the time the sun dipped below the trees. It actually felt good…surprisingly good. I don’t plan on quitting drinking all together, mostly just staying away from bourbon…I promised her I would be good to myself and that is what I intend to do.

More trivial events pass before I meet up with the boys at Randy’s…TBF and his girlfriend TGF are already there and already drunk…it’s roughly nine o’clock. He is aggressive tonight, much more so than usual…staring people down and slamming pints. It is so strange to watch this from the opposite side of sobriety, I never realized how utterly retarded we are.

A few hours pass and he is literally out of control, meanwhile I’m spending most of my time watching Sports Center and trying to avoid the looks from Pam, my bartender, wondering why I’m not drinking. She’s probably pissed because I spend a pretty penny there and always tip well. FUCK this is not at all easy, look at the bottles sitting there…they are calling my name.

This is where it all goes pear.

There is this white trash fuck who keeps hitting on TGF…blatantly. I told this fucker to leave it but he just laughs me off. The asshole is probably twice my size and drunk as shit, so naturally he tells me to stuff it up my ass. Fuck it, I’m in no mood for this. I’m going out for a cigarette.

Aw shit. Walking back into the bar I see TBF in White Trash’s face. The guy is sitting in a chair and TBF is standing right in front of him screaming at him. Ike tells me that he saw the guy hitting on his girlfriend when he came from the bathroom and just fucking lost it. Next thing I know TBF shoves this fucker backwards over his chair, his head smacking against the linoleum. I rush over and grab TBF by the collar and drag him out to the street, Pam screaming at us to get the fuck out.

“What the FUCK is your deal, man?”

“Don’t fucking talk to me Cheese you fucking hypocrite.”

I really can’t say anything to that…he’s exactly right; normally I’m the one being dragged out by the collar. I light a cigarette and hand it over to him, lighting another for myself. Ike comes out and explains that he tried to calm the guy down but to no avail, so he just told him to piss off or we would kill him. Good old drunk decision making. I was off in another world and they were so drunk that none of us noticed White Trash make his way outside with a pint glass in his hand.

I turned around to the sound of the glass smashing over the back of TBF’s head. He hit the ground hard and Ike lunged for him, fist cocked back.

Fast Forward

I have been sitting out here in front of the ER for about twenty minutes and there are four cig butts lying on the ground in front of me, I’m about to flick the fifth one. I am fucking irate right now, so mad my hands are shaking. I want to go home, grab my piece and go looking for this guy. I am the most loyal friend, I would die for my boys and I would kill for them in a heartbeat. I feel like shit for not backing him up, for not noticing that fucker sneaking up behind him.

You see, when it comes to sticking up for my real friends, I am a pit bull. I go for the throat when you threaten them, and if you hurt one I will smash your skull under my boot. Don’t fuck with me ever…EVER, but if you fuck with my friends I will kill you. Flat out, I will blow your face off and never regret it. Believe me, if I see this guy again, he will realize that size isn’t what matters…psychosis wins fights. If I would have been drinking this story would have been much different.

I flick the last cigarette in my pack and head back inside to wait for him.